


Sabotage

by Zeto



Series: Sabotage and Satisfaction [1]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-12 19:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeto/pseuds/Zeto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you can't have your happily ever after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And Time Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the icing on the cake, the one that was five feet tall with edible gold leaf sprinkles? It was his own damned birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one written for the AvengerKink Meme on LJ, Round 11.
> 
> Prompt: http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/9218.html?thread=20089602#t20089602  
> Song: Crush by Jennifer Paige
> 
> My first Avengers fic ever. I hope you enjoyed it. Comments are much appreciated.

 

 

 

He was a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, dammit.

At any given moment, he could have had a dozen, beautiful women vying for his attention. He owned more cars than a dealership, he'd graduated MIT at the age of 17 and he even had a building towering into the sky with his name plastered across the top. His company was the only name in clean energy, for God's sake.

As usual, he was dressed in his impeccable, bespoke suit from David August. The one which the reporter from the New York Times had done a three-page spread on.

He was, according to the plethora of people he'd dated in the past, “devilishly good-looking”.

Not to mention the fact that he was fan-fucking-tastic in bed. Again, not his words.

And the icing on the cake, the one that was five feet tall with edible gold leaf sprinkles? It was his own damned birthday. 

So then, why was that scrawny redhead hitting on Captain America?

Tony refrained from glaring into his martini. He didn't even _like_ vodka that much. He was a man more predisposed towards whiskey or bourbon.

And--and was Steve responding to the redhead's clumsy attempts of flirting?

Tony tossed his drink back. Snatched another from one of the waitstaff.

Steve smiled shyly.

Make that two drinks then.

He didn't used to feel this way. In fact, the animosity between Rogers and him had always been something of a running joke between the Avengers. The team used to place bets on who could outwit the other in terms of insults and jibes. Tony usually won; having an IQ off the charts certainly helped.

But somehow, as the days, weeks, months passed and the team fought and lived together, as they saved one another, time and time again, the dynamics of their relationship changed.

At least, it had changed on Tony's end of it.

It was as though Steve had wormed his way into Tony's life. No matter how hard or how many times Tony kicked him, Steve always came back with that wounded, puppy dog look. Privately, Tony called it the Kicked Puppy Syndrome.

~*~

Pepper materialized next to him, seemingly out of nowhere. “Happy birthday, Tony,” she murmured, lips grazing across his cheek gently.

“Is it?” he countered.

She pulled back, studying him carefully. “Are you drunk at your own birthday already?”

“Of course not.” 

“Oh really?”

“I got drunk long before you all intruded my own home.”

“Tony.”

“Pepper,” he mimicked her tone.

“ _Tony_ ,” she repeated.

“It's nothing,” he reassured her, watching from the corner of his eye as Steve held his hand out, as the redheaded hussy accepted it, watching as the duo graced the dance floor with their presence. He chugged the vodka, nearly slammed the glasses onto a near-by server's tray and snagged another.

Pepper's hand closed around his, pulling it back.

“Tony.”

“What?” he snapped.

“You like him.”

“Come again?”

She arched an eyebrow before seeking out the blond on the dance floor. “You haven't taken your eyes off him all night.”

“I don't know what you're talking about, Pepper.”

“So you _don't_ care that she's got her hands all over his...backside then.”

Tony whipped his head around, practically giving himself whiplash.

The redhead was nowhere in sight; Steve was back at the fringes of the room, talking to Bruce instead.

“That was not nice.”

“Neither is being in denial,” she replied.

“All right. So _maybe_ there's something there.”

“Maybe,” Pepper parroted dryly.

“I just need to get him out of my system. That's all.”

The slap, when it came, was unexpected. It drew a round of gasps from all the guests within hearing distance, along with the attention of the Avengers with acute hearing.

“Get him out of your system? Like every fling, every one-night-stand you've ever had? Like Christine or Rumiko? Rae, Justin or Meredith? You think this is some childish crush or silly infatuation?” She was almost hissing.

Tony smiled widely at the crowd, making sure his voice carried, “She packs a mean birthday beat, folks.”

“I've watched you sabotage every good thing that's ever happened to you. I've watched you drink yourself blind, watched you take on monsters and magic, watched you fly through a portal I thought you'd never come back from. And then I watched as you fell from the sky.

"I'm tired, Tony. Tired of watching you ruin your life. Tired of watching you throw away what could possibly be the best thing to ever happen to you, watching you blow your chance at being happy.”

Before she could continue, a warm arm slipped around her waist.

“Is everything all right, hon?” 

She looked up, taking in Harold's worried visage, giving him a tight smile. “Everything's fine.”

“Are you certain?”

Pepper nodded. “In fact, I even feel like dancing,” she answered, leading Happy away.

Making his way outside onto his balcony, Tony decided a little fresh air might clear his head. He considered ditching his own party. 

As he leaned against the glass railing, watching the stars light up, a banner of silver across the midnight blue sky, he heard footsteps behind him.

“Is everything all right?”

Tony fought back a wry smile. Of course the Captain would be the one to check up on him. 

“Why wouldn't things be all right?”

“Perhaps because of what transpired between you and Miss Potts?”

“Haven't you ever had a birthday beat, Cap?”

“What is that supposed to be?”

“Why don't I show you?”

“Are you going to answer every question with a question, Mr. Stark?”

“Would you like me to?”

Steve frowned. “Is this a joke to you?”

Tony didn't answer. Turned his gaze to the horizon instead. Did Pepper really think Steve could make him happy? Mr. Tall, Blond and Blue-Grey-Eyed, with his tenacious optimism and his unending loyalty? His cheerful simplicity and his guilelessness, his naiveté? For crying outloud, the man helped frail, little elderly ladies across the street, who then pinched his cheek and called him a delightfully old-fashioned gentleman.

He wondered how she could truly believe Steve would ever want a guy like him. He, who'd been called arrogant, pompous and self-important. Tony Stark, the pessimistic realist with a penchant for expensive booze and high-stakes gambling. He had more vices than he had cars in his garage.

Steve Rogers embodied everything good, everything wholesome. He was a 'forevermore' kind of guy.

Tony Stark just happened to be the complete opposite. He could barely do 'maybe' on a good day.

“No,” he finally spoke. “It's not a joke.”

It wasn't a joke and perhaps...perhaps he was getting tired of 'maybe'.

 

 

 


	2. Salt and Sweat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony receives the best birthday present ever. Except he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve, you better keep your promise in the morning...

 

 

It was half past two by the time the last of the guests had vacated the premises. Earlier in the evening, Tony had assured the other Avengers, Pepper and Happy that they were more than welcome to stay the night; he had more space than he'd ever fill up, might as well put it all to use. That, of course, had been _before_ the birthday boy had gotten into ahold of his best friend, Daniels. Jack Daniels.

Right now, Tony would have been lucky to remember his own name.

Steve, on the other hand, was escorting the redhead he'd danced with earlier to her car. Her smile vanished, however, when all he did was send her off with a 'good night' and a firm handshake.

He turned, finding Happy a couple of yards away, holding the door open for Pepper. “Harold, Miss Potts, you're not staying?”

“Captain, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Happy?” 

Smiling sheepishly, Steve shook his head lightly. “My apologies, it's a force of habit.”

Pepper leaned over to the driver's side. “It's my fault; I've an early meeting with the board tomorrow.”

“I hope it goes well.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Well, I should be getting back inside.”

“Good night then.”

“Good night,” he echoed and watched as they drove off, red taillights shrinking into the distance.

Back inside the Tower, Steve found Tony curled up on the couch, face smushed into what he hoped was a puddle of sticky, dried booze. Fighting back a smile, Steve cleared up some of the clutter surrounding the couch. Tony had hired cleaners, no doubt, but the blond wasn't even close to being sleepy or tired and he didn't want to just leave Tony there, even if the couch looked comfortable. Well, as comfortable as it could get, considering the amount of booze and junk food littering the creases and crevices. 

From the corner of his eye, he caught the most minute of movements; Tony shivering. Steve turned to pick him up, intent on delivering the older man to his bed for some proper rest with warm blankets. Just as he leaned down, Tony shifted in his sleep.

“...you like me to...” he mumbled, only semi-incoherent, though Steve's enhanced hearing let him hear it quite clearly.

_No. It's not a joke._

Steve froze, still remembering what had happened only a few hours earlier. He recalled the cool night air, the sound of music and laughter drifting from the inside out. He recalled standing so close to Tony, he could see the cool blue glow of the arc reactor, practically felt it pulsing with life.

He remembered Tony staring at him with his dark brown eyes, inscrutable yet so very intense. It had felt like the other man was trying to read his soul, as if he had wanted to crawl inside of Steve.

And then Tony had closed the distance between them, until they stood mere inches apart. So close, Steve could feel the older man's body heat, and then for some inexplicable reason, he had reached out, wanting to touch the reactor.

Tony had caught his wrist, caught his eyes and just. Looked at him. As if he'd been gauging Steve, judging him. Taking him apart. Dissecting him with his eyes.

Whatever he found there, must have been all right, for the next thing Steve knew, Tony's hand had slid upwards, lacing their fingers together.

Neither of them had dared to breathe.

Steve remembered becoming aware of this strange ringing noise in his head, his ears. He had felt his heart thundering inside his chest, trying to beat its way out of its cage.

Shaking his head, Steve returned to the present, studying the slumber man before him. Carefully, he scooped the billionaire from the couch, carrying him upstairs to his bedroom. He set Tony down, gingerly tugged his shoes off and undid his tie, laying it on the side-table attached to the headboard before undoing the top three buttons of Tony's shirt.

“Er...Mr. Jarvis? Would it be too much trouble for some dim lighting please?” Steve asked, a little uncertain. He'd seen, or rather, heard Tony talking to a disembodied...well, he didn't actually _know_ what this Jarvis was, but he knew Jarvis could be helpful.

“Certainly, sir,” came the reply and the room flooded with gentle, diffused pools of light.

Steve thanked him politely and disappeared into the bathroom to dampen a towel before returning to clean off Tony's sticky face with gentle, tender strokes that belied his strength. Sitting down beside him, Steve found himself unable to help the urge to study the brunet.

The straight, strong nose. His thick, unruly hair with the tiniest trace of silver at the temples. The tiny little crow's feet at the corner of his eyes that proved Tony Stark did have a sense of humour after all. His immaculate facial hair.

Eventually, Steve tore his gaze away, trying not to feel like an absolute degenerate. He glanced around the room, found a laundry basket, and with complete ease and accuracy, he deftly launched the towel inside.

When he looked back down at Tony, he saw that the other man had woken up. Sort of.

Tony's eyes were half open, flickering sleepily. He gave a languid yawn before bestowing a lazy smile upon the captain. “Are you here for me?” he asked before snagging Steve's tie in his hand and yanking him down. 

Steve didn't even have time to blink.

“Well, happy birthday to me then,” Tony declared and closed the distance between them, capturing the blond's lips.

Steve tried to pull away, but Tony kept a firm grip on his tie even as he deepened the kiss. The older man tasted like whiskey and chocolate and Steve found himself responding. He kissed back, sliding a hand around Tony's neck, cupping the back of his head. His tongue darted out, tracing Tony's lower lip before he bit down, nibbling ever so lightly and was rewarded with a low, husky groan.

With a torturously-slow speed, he kissed his way down Tony's neck, pushing his shirt aside. He bit down hard enough to leave a mark, hearing Tony's breath hitch and sucked on the bite mark, tongue tasting the salt and sweat of skin. Hearing Tony become undone, knowing that he was the one to draw out these delicious noises, sent his blood straight to his cock. Made him want to possess Tony, own him, even if it was only for a little while.

“Hm, I think you're my favourite--fuck--my favourite present ever,” Tony mumbled, head falling back as Steve leisurely worshipped his collarbone.

Feeling a hand cup his hard cock through his pants, Steve froze for an instant before quickly wrenching himself away, finally coming to his senses.

“Wait, why did--what are you doing?” Tony asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“You're still drunk,” Steve informed him, moving out of reach.

“And?”

“And? And what? I'm not going to take advantage of you in this state.”

“Mm, but what if I want you to?”

“No, it's not right.”

“But it's my birthday.”

Steve rubbed a tired hand over his face. “I'm sorry, Tony. I...just can't.”

“And _you're_ my birthday present,” he carried on as though Steve hadn't said a word.

“Tony,” he warned.

The billionaire stopped, shutting his eyes, exhaling as he turned his face away.

“Tony?”

“You don't want me,” he finally said, bitterness lacing his words.

“No, it's not that.” 

Tony laughed, humourlessly. “Sure. What is it then?”

The younger man let out a slow breath, thinking quickly. “I'll make you a deal.”

Tony refused to look at him. “Go on.”

“We put a halt to this.” He continued quickly, seeing the look on Tony's face, “only for now. Only until morning and when you wake up, _sober_ , if you still want me, we'll do whatever you want.”

“Promise?” Tony glanced up at him from beneath his lashes.

“Absolutely, on my honour. I don't lie,” he vowed. He would keep his word too, come morning. He just didn't expect Tony to remember a single thing when the time came.

There was a long silence as Tony contemplated the terms. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Steve repeated carefully.

Tony nodded, unable to fight back a yawn. He settled down and Steve slid off the bed, tugging the sheets up to blanket him.

“Good night, Tony,” he murmured quietly.

“Good night, birthday present,” the brunet mumbled just as he nodded off.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I like this chapter much more than the first one.


	3. Hey, Hey, Don't Bother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make a choice, that split-second decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, I'm really liking the thought of Bruce/Natasha and Phil/Clint. There may also be some Thor/Jane in the future if I do decide to continue this.
> 
> I actually wanted to add a tiny scene of Thor escorting Jane to her metal, horseless carriage but it didn't pan out.

 

 

 

Despite only having a couple of hours of sleep, Steve found himself waking shortly after nine in the morning. He'd lain in bed, staring out the window at the city sprawled below. Just thinking of the events that had transpired over the last twelve hours. He'd never been much of a drinker before the serum but sometimes he sorely wished he could get a light buzz. Heck, today, he would have settled for a tingle. Instead, his eidetic memory decided to taunt him with crystal-sharp images of Tony. In his arms, kissing him, making those little noises that sent his blood south, leaving him dizzy for more. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, tasting the remnants of chocolate and whiskey. Steve had a feeling, he'd never be able to enjoy the taste of the two without thinking of Tony ever again.

Biting back a groan, he forced himself to get up and out of bed. He washed up and shuffled to the kitchen where the sight of Clint and Thor, conversing in low tones with their heads together, greeted him. Well, Clint conversed in a low tone. What constituted a quiet speaking level for Thor was something else entirely.

The former offered him small nod, gesturing to the pot of fresh coffee on the island counter. Thor, however, didn't even bother with anything close to subtlety.

"We are utmost glad you and the man of metal have finally consummated your relationship. Fare you well last night?" he asked.

And received an elbow from the archer sitting next to him.

Steve stared at them for a long moment. And then proceeded to make himself a mug of coffee. Two spoons of cream, no sugar. He took a long sip, feeling the almost-burn of the piping-hot liquid, feeling two pairs of eyes boring holes into him. Settling into the stool on the other side of the island, he blandly stared back.

And that was how Bruce and Natasha found the trio half an hour later. They both paused in the doorway, taken aback.

"Good morning?" ventured the scientist.

"It is indeed a glorious morning," Thor replied heartily. "For our shield-brothers have finally lain together."

Clint snorted, while drinking his fix of caffeine, which had the unfortunate effect of going down the wrong pipe. As he sputtered and gasped for air, eyes watering, the Asgardian god pounded him on the back. Sadly, it only made things worse. He quickly waved the blond off before he started turning purple. Steve vacated his seat, offering it to the redhead. She slid into the stool across from Clint, thanking Steve with a slight smile even as she fought down a laugh at her partner.

"Congratulations are in order then," Bruce responded, smiling slightly, leaning against the table.

Steve shook his head as he set his empty cup into the sink. He went about the kitchen, gathering the materials for a large breakfast. "Anyone want some real sustenance instead of just coffee? Toast, eggs and bacon. And I am afraid you're all mistaken. Nothing happened last night. Tony and I never have and never will be anything more than friends."

"But last night, did I not see you carry your lover to the bedroom?" Thor asked, confusion marking his brow.

"Tony was drunk. I merely helped him to his room," he replied. "I would do the same for any of you."

"And you know he would too, Mr. I-Help-Little-Old-Ladies-Across-The-Street," came a voice from the doorway, sounding rough and coarse. "It's nothing, guys."

Steve shut his eyes, inwardly cursing at himself, at the timing of it all, at this stupid turn of events. He opened his eyes but stared down at his hands, stiffening at the stove, as everyone else turned to look at Tony. Clearly the other man had heard more than just the tail-end of _this_ conversation. Resolutely, he refused to look up as Tony helped himself to the coffee and then joined the others at the counter.

"So," Tony casually said with bright cheer, "what's on the agenda for today?"

“No hangover?” Bruce questioned, amusement colouring his voice.

Making a face, Tony deigned to reply.

Natasha mentioned something about a 'diplomatic mission' at eleven for her, Steve and Clint.

"Wait, that's today?" Clint blurted out.

"It certainly wasn't yesterday," she responded dryly. "You weren't in any condition to go anywhere."

"How could Fury do this?" he said, mournfully. "Can't even enjoy a proper hangover in peace."

"You're hardly hungover from the looks of it," Bruce commented.

"I'll have you know that Phil and I were doing shot for shot last night."

"It's Phil now, is it?" teased Tony, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, his first name isn't Agent," returned Clint.

"And how far did you get anyway? Three shots apiece?"

"What is this? Pick On Clint Day?"

"There is such a thing?" Thor piped up. "We must celebrate then!"

"Uh, Thor?"

"What does this joyous day entail, my friends?" he continued in his usual loud, charming way.

"No, Thor, it's not a real celebration. We weren't being serious," Steve explained.

"Like a lot of other things apparently," muttered Tony.

Steve froze; Tony remembered last night too, on top of hearing that Steve thought they would _never_ amount to anything other than friendship. There was no other way to construe that sentence. Unfortunately, Steve wasn't the only one with good hearing or within hearing distance of the brunet and he found himself under the scrutinizing gaze of both Bruce and Clint as he handed out plates with bacon-cheese omelettes with bits of peppers, tomatoes and onion, and toast. Or in Bruce's case, an onion-free omelette with all the other bits. As he passed a plate to Tony, the other man shook his head.

"I've got things to do. In my workshop. Work things, all that jazz. I'll see you guys later," he said, backing up quickly.

It didn't go unnoticed that Tony was avoiding all contact with Steve. He disappeared, presumably to go do some actual work. Steve watched him go, plate dangling from his fingers, dangerously close to depositing its contents on the floor. He turned back and found four sets of eyes on him.

"Nothing happened last night, my ass," Clint exclaimed.

Steve sighed, sliding the plate onto the table. Great, just great. Now Tony probably thought he was a liar and a real cad. This would probably undo all those months of their fragile, slowly-built friendship. Like a sandcastle, struck by the ocean's waves.

"Steve?" Bruce prodded gently.

"I screwed up," he said quietly. So quietly almost no one heard him.

"Surely you can mend it," Thor encouraged.

"He was drunk, I know he was."

"And you took advantage," concluded Natasha with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"What? No! No, that is the last thing I'd do." Steve wrung his hands together. 

"Then you'd better explain yourself, Captain," Bruce stated coolly.

"He woke up when I was going to tuck him into his bed. And he was still drunk. And he kissed me and...and I...I wanted him," Steve confessed softly. "But not like that. Never like that. So I made him a promise. If he woke up this morning and he still wanted me, I promised him we'd do anything he wanted. He seemed all right with it. Went to sleep after that. But this morning. You have to understand; I didn't think he'd remember anything. He was so drunk."

"And he walked into the kitchen, hearing you say that there'd never be anything between you two," finished Natasha.

Steve nodded, guilt shrouding him like a veil, eating away at his insides.

"You're an idiot," Clint told him.

"I know," Steve agreed miserably, not even attempting to defend himself.

"Even I could see that the man of metal has been languishing from unrequited love for months," Thor added helpfully. “And on Asgard, my friends joke of my lack of astuteness.”

"Unrequited love? Wait, what? _Months_?" Steve stared at the other blond.

“We're leaving for the airport soon,” Natasha said.

The non sequitur had him confused for a moment but he realized it was her way of prompting him into action.

“I should probably...go...” Steve uttered, his mind already elsewhere as he stood up and let his feet carry him down to Tony's workshop.

Through the window, Steve could see Tony surrounded by blueprints hanging in the air, running a couple of simulations on a full-scale model of the next Mark.

"JARVIS, is the IDS running?"

"Faster than you, sir."

"Haha, JARVIS. Cute. Now how's the scalability as compared to the Mark VII?"

"Increased by twenty percent, sir."

"Excellent. Now, I just need to adjust the parameters of the sub-routine for..." he rambled, trailing off as he got caught up in his work.

"Captain Rogers is here to see you."

"Tell him I'm busy."

A few seconds later.

"He insists it's important, sir."

"Yes, well, so is building a better suit to save the world. He likes it when the world is safe, right?"

"He's gone, sir."

"Good. I'm glad," Tony said loudly, pretending it didn't hurt, pretending that having Steve go away, give up so readily, was exactly was he wanted.

A few minutes later.

"Sir, Captain Rogers is back..."

"I'm still not letting him in."

"...with Dr. Banner," JARVIS finished.

"Traitor," he muttered, making a note to revoke all of Bruce's access to the 'shop before turning to face the other two men. "Look, you guys, I'm very busy here and I'd like to be alone. Genius at work and all that. You know how it is."

"Don't worry. I have no plans of staying," Bruce said, holding up his hands in surrender.

"I'm still revoking your access," Tony informed him.

"Oh, and everyone's gone out for the time being," he quickly added, eyes darting over to Steve, before he made his escape.

"And I'm cutting off your hot water supply," the industrialist called after him even as the door shut. He turned back, and there was Steve, staring at the ground, not looking awkward. Not at all. Right.

"Tony," Steve began. “I'm sorry about what I said.”

“Apology accepted. You can go now,” Tony said, fixing his gaze on one of the blueprints.

It was a clear dismissal.

“No, please. I have to--”

“No,” Tony interrupted suddenly. “I--I just can't. I can't do this, all right?”

“What do you--”

“I mean, any of this. All of this. I can't. Not with you, not this.”

“But I--”

“I can't do this, all right?” he repeated. “So don't bother.”

“Please, Tony...” Steve trailed off, helplessly.

“You have a mission right now, don't you.”

It wasn't a question.

“Okay, I understand. I'll see you when I return,” Steve said softly, shutting his eyes as he walked away, each step heavier than the last. With each step, his mind was telling him to turn back, to _talk_ to Tony and repair everything. He'd made an error and had tried to apologize but he didn't know how to fix it, how to make it better.

 

_Sometimes you do something you can't come back from. You make a choice, that split-second decision. You don't know if it's right or wrong, that path you've taken, but it's done. You make a choice, and you have to live with the consequences._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason this fic is called Sabotage...


End file.
